


White King takes Black Queen

by Anisarian



Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: It's a bit experimental, because their silly joke post is why it exists, just fucking around with the idea really, thank commandertheory.com for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:44:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anisarian/pseuds/Anisarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment during the Phyrexian Reclamation, that sealed the fate of a plane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White King takes Black Queen

The throne room is white, an army of attendants waiting in ordered rows. On the throne a striking figure, bare flesh clad in porcelain, sits straight up, two servants holding her robes above the ground. Before her rests the torso of a woman, bare flesh covered in black metal, horns growing back from her eyes. The being on the throne simply sits and watches, waiting for some unknown, unseen cue.

A soft, whispered hiss emanates from the being clad in black. It is quite beyond belief, a sound of resignation and loss. The great head of the being on the throne, clad in a porcelain crown wider then her two attendants shifts her gaze down, ever so slightly.

“ _I_ am not lenient?” The Porcelain figure booms, hand raising from the throne, “You sit before me, alive and unharmed from your stay. Where was such leniency from you, when you strung that beast of the Tangle from one end of his realm to the other, or as you fed the Core-Augur his own poison?”

Soft sibilance from the figure on the ground, a more dangerous sound as they shake their head softly.

“Of course I have purpose for you,” The Porcelain figure responds dismissively, “That is what I am, dear Thane, while you tear apart our plane attempting to bring it to heel, I find the pieces and slot them into place. I succeed where you failed because I understand that everything and everyone has it's place, even if it must be broken apart to find it.”

A confused whisper, closer to words this time, and the figure in the throne rises. Her attendants dutifully move with her, ensuring the red fabric of her skirt does not touch the floor, a ritual of obedience and service. She walks to the figure in black, towering over everyone in the room. And then, she lowers herself, an action which causes newer initiates to stir, ever so slightly, before silencing themselves, refusing to question the Grand Cenobite on a matter such as this. The Porcelain figure moves closer, and whispers to the metal clad woman before her.

“I would prefer not to render you apart any further,” she intones, something that may be regret in her tone. “Your fellow Thanes remain a difficulty, and the Hidden One has, in his fear of becoming useful, joined with the remaining Mirrans to contest us.” She brings her hand up, and caresses the back of her opponents neck. “Say you will serve me, say you will allow me to forge you into something far greater then you ever where.” Her claws dig in, and her voice becomes lower, more dangerous, “Because I will not hesitate to rend you to the most basic of parts, as I have your precious mount. I know you desire to rule, dear Sheoldred, that it aches in your very core, but I also know you value yourself above all else, above even your own misguided ambition. So tell me, Dear Sheoldred, do you agree to serve, to be reborn as my greatest weapon, to drive the Thanes and the Hidden One and his Mirran allies to the same fate you would avoid.”

An eyeless face stares back, a mind that had brought two Praetor's to ruin ticking through their options. And then the being whispered, true words, not the primal hiss they all understood anyway. Two words that sealed the fate of what was once the plane of Mirran.

“I do.”


End file.
